


The Boundaries of Proper Etiquette

by DarkestCornerOfMyMind



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Childhood Memories, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Master/Slave, Memory Loss, Past Child Abuse, Secret Organizations, Sexual Slavery, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4840877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkestCornerOfMyMind/pseuds/DarkestCornerOfMyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nanase Haruka is the young master of a wealthy family. Makoto is his personal manservant. Step by step, they grow closer and more in love, until Haruka is no longer able to tell who is the master, and who is the slave.</p>
<p>Unfortunately for him, Makoto can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Slave and the Master

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net under the same title and penname.
> 
> The original story currently has 19 chapters which will eventually be posted here on AO3.

Quiet. Stillness. The soft yellow light bathed the marble tiles. Nanase Haruka, age 17, sunk himself further down in the warm water and sighed contently. He loved this time; the time that he could get away from everyone and immerse himself within the hot steaming liquid which soothed his nerves.

Haruka's life rotated entirely around water. His family, as it were, had ancestors ranging from fishermen to pirates. Now they were in charge of a spring water import business with thriving results.

The water was starting to chill slightly but the young master didn't care. He merely sank lower and fancied himself swimming in a cool lake on a hot summer day. Eagerly, the water lapped at his ears as if begging him to give himself over wholly. Complying, Haruka slid down the edge of his bathtub until he was lying flat against the tiled floor...

The world was flipped upside down as a gloved hand plunged into the watery stillness and grasped his forearm. Fighting it, Haruka attempted to yank away but the hand was stronger and it pulled him back up to the surface.

Sputtering, he reared up angrily like an enraged cat and glared at the intruder of his private time. Soft green eyes accompanied by a gentle smile gazed back at him, unperturbed.

"My apologies, Master Haruka," his personal servant Makoto said respectfully. He released Haruka's arm and began to peel off his wet glove. "I felt nervous when I saw you sink under the water, Master Haruka. I thought that perhaps you had fallen asleep."

"I'm fine," Haruka muttered. He still felt bitter about being interrupted. "Now leave me alone."

"Yes Master," Makoto stood. Haruka noted that his knees, which must have gotten splashed on, were wet. "Again, I apologize for my unnecessary interference."

Haruka did not bother with a reply and merely once more sank below the water's surface.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Makoto was a slave.

The politer term to put it, Haruka supposed, would be an unpaid servant. However, that meant that Makoto was basically a slave.

Haruka was not entirely sure of his servant's backstory, nor was he interested, but he had drawn a few of his own conclusions during his daily ponderings in the bathtub. The factual thing he knew was that Makoto was the same age, only a few months younger.

Makoto had come to the Nanase household only a few weeks ago. He had a well-groomed appearance and a handsome face which sent the maids in to a flutter of excited whispers. Makoto had no last name, meaning that he was most likely a child from the slums, perhaps the son of a prostitute. Whoever he was, he had been presented in front of Haruka as his new manservant. He had been dressed in attire similar to a footman, but his right ear sported a silver triangle earring. "He's a slave," his father stated in a loud voice. This time it sent all of the servants into controversial murmurs.

Being a slave meant that one's rights had either been taken away or sold. It meant that Makoto's standing was far below a typical servant-rank. If Haruka, the young master of an elite family, was an ocean, then his servants were ponds. Makoto, at best, would be a puddle.

Haruka did not want a slave. Growing up in a noble family with parents with a loveless marriage often caused Haruka to live under benign neglect with the dutiful care of his domestic retainers. Haruka was usually alone, and he preferred it to be that way.

He disliked Makoto, with his permanent smile and grass green eyes. He disliked his often unfazed attitude and gentle words. Most of all, he disliked the obvious sadness lurking behind his cheerful façade, but was never hinted at. It seemed that the others, servants or his parents, did not see it. Or perhaps all slaves had the same look in their eyes.

Either way, Haruka did not appreciate Makoto's presence. And he was determined to have Makoto leave of his own volition no matter what.

**.**

**.**

**.**

... Was what Haruka was planning, but much to his frustration, Makoto's seemingly unlimited patience bested him.

The slave seemed to have a natural inclination towards forgiveness. No matter how many things he carelessly flung or spilled on the floor, no matter the terrible things he would offhandedly say, no matter how much he flat out  _ignored_  him, Makoto would forever obey his orders or brush away his comments with that hated smile. There was not a speck of disgruntlement or anger to be seen, and Haruka was getting rather bored of acting like a spoiled brat. The young master was ordinarily self-sufficient and tried not to trouble his servants unless necessary.

Haruka, once more bathing in his beloved water, pondered of what exactly he could do to annoy his slave. Perhaps it was time to abuse his authority a little bit and force Makoto to do something he hated. But what did he hate? Haruka did not bother talking to him unless it was indispensable to his current need. Filling the bathtub was the most he had ever ordered him to do and even that was done with a cheery grin.

What could be done, he wondered, to make Makoto realize that he didn't want him?

Feeling tired from overthinking, he slowly shut his eyes and didn't open them again until Makoto came in an hour later to help him dress for bed. He hazily opened his eyes to frantic green eyes, a terrified voice, and a spinning room which made him feel the need to vomit.

**.**

**.**

**.**

When Haruka opened his eyes again, he was lying in his large and comfortable bed, the ceiling lights swimming in his vision.  _Oh,_  he thought blearily _, I got sick again_.

It didn't surprise him, at least not anymore. Since he frequently spent time swimming or bathing, occasionally he would get carried away and the water would get too cold for him. Then he would spend the next couple days in a foul mood because he wasn't allowed to even touch any bodies of water until he was completely healed, not that he always obeyed this rule. The servants would often avoid his room during these times, only stopping by to drop off trays of hot food for him to ignore because he wasn't hungry or up to it. Often times he would force them into filling his bathtub for him even if he was sick. They never refused him for long.

He sighed, irritated at himself for being so weak, and turned on his side to go back to sleep. He felt a slight tug on his bed sheets as if they were caught on something. Confused, he twisted his head to see a familiar mop of brown hair lying on the side of the mattress.

Swallowing a surprised noise, he gazed at Makoto, who had fallen asleep at his bedside with his head in his arms. Why was he here? Didn't he have the common sense to stay away like the rest of the servants? Being a new slave was no exception; he supposed it was the fault of the head butler for not informing him properly.

He felt a scowl form on his face. Grabbing Makoto by the shoulder, he shook him roughly, calling, "Hey, you. Wake up."

The slave made an undignified sound and lifted his head enough for Haruka to see one sleepy green eye. "Haru- _chan_...?"

Blue eyes widening in shock, he gave Makoto a hefty slap on the back of his head. Yelping, Makoto sat up immediately, rubbing the painful spot with a grimace.

"Since when are slaves allowed to address their masters with noble-use honorfics?" Haruka demanded, practically spitting acid. Makoto gasped and immediately rectified his mistake.

"I am so sorry!" he cried, looking as if he were about to cry. "I didn't mean to say such things, Master Haruka! I am sorry!" Makoto slid out of his chair to the floor and performed a dogeza on the ground, face pressed hard in to the carpet. "Please forgive me!"

Haruka was shocked to say the least. Makoto was usually so calm and collected that it was strange to see him act so frantic and scared. The change in attitude made him feel uncomfortable and he reached over the side of his bed to tug a lock of brown hair. "I'm not mad," he muttered. "I just – "

Suddenly a wave of nausea swept over him and he wobbled. In a flash, Makoto had the nearby wastebasket in his hands and under Haruka's face. "Here," Makoto coaxed him. Haruka retched and coughed, but it even if he felt it coming, it didn't.

"It won't come up," he muttered. His skin was starting to turn sickly pale and it felt sticky with sweat. He hated of how weak he appeared and hated that it was Makoto seeing him like this. He didn't even notice Makoto removing his gloves with his teeth until he felt a large hand on the back of his head.

"Please excuse me, but this is necessary," Makoto murmured gently. Haruka opened his mouth to demand an explanation when suddenly Makoto's long pointer finger was in his mouth and pressing against his uvula.

Haruka gagged and vomited straight in to the wastebasket. Makoto soothingly rubbed circles on his back with his clean hand as he emptied the little contents of his stomach. Coughing the last out, he felt Makoto wiping his mouth with his hand and promptly slapped it away. "That's dirty!" he managed to growl.

"But do you feel better?" Makoto asked with his damned smile. Haruka, too proud to admit it, turned his head to the side in a pout. He heard a soft chuckle and hated it.

"Please go back to sleep if you can," Makoto requested in a soft but firm voice. "Sleep is often the best medicine."

"I don't want to sleep," Haruka tried to sit up and failed. "Fill the bath. If I soak in hot water long enough, I can heal myself."

"No, Master Haruka," Makoto said even more firmly, pushing him down again with his clean hand. "Orders from the Master and Mistress. They say you are absolutely not allowed to bathe again until you completely break your fever. Bathing is the reason you became sick in the first place. What if your fever becomes worse?"

"It won't," Haruka snapped, squirming. His nightwear stuck to his skin with sweat and he hated the feeling. "Just obey my orders."

"I refuse."

Haruka shot him a glare with narrow eyes. None of the servants ever refused him anything if pushed. "You would defy your master?"

"Only for the sake of your wellbeing," Makoto pushed him down for the final time and tucked in the covers so snugly that Haruka, in his weakened state, could barely move. "Please go back to sleep. I will wash my hands and return shortly."

The door shut quietly behind him and Haruka scowled as he struggled. Unfortunately the struggling made him feel more and more tired and he soon gave up, once more slipping in to unconsciousness.

**.**

**.**

**.**

A cool, wet, welcomed feeling was gently caressing his body, cooling his fevered skin. Confused, Haruka reached out and grabbed on to somebody's warm hand, soaked with cold water. He heard soft splashing and his eyes snapped open.

Makoto jumped in surprise, almost dropping the small wet towel in his hand. "My goodness. You surprised me, Master Haruka," he exclaimed. The dim light next to the bed gave his silver earring a dull shine. Haruka ignored him and instead turned his head to stare at the small basin on his bedside table. He could see the clear liquid within and felt himself swallow.

"Oh, are you thirsty, Master Haruka?" Makoto asked, surprising him. "I brought a pitcher of water. Please wait a moment."

Makoto retreated from sight and from somewhere across the room, Haruka's ears caught the sound of pouring water and he attempted to sit upright. Feeling a cool breeze, he looked down and was shocked to see that he was half naked.

Makoto came back with a glass cup of water in his hand, which he handed to Haruka. Haruka glared at him, wondering why he had removed his clothes.

"Are you wondering why I undressed you?" Makoto asked politely. Haruka blinked. Again, had his slave read his mind...? "Earlier I noticed that you were squirming around as if you felt uncomfortable. I guessed that you wanted to bathe because you were sweating so much. I couldn't let you bathe, but the least I can do for you is to wipe you down," he gestured to the basin and towel. "After you have finished your water, please allow me to continue."

Haruka mentally weighed his options and had to admit to himself that he felt better with his skin being sweat-free. He nodded his consent and he saw Makoto's face light up with a dazzling smile.

Putting the cup to his lips, he thirstily gulped down the refreshing liquid until none of it remained. Makoto took back the cup and put it down on the bedside table before once more picking up the wet towel. "Please give me your arm, Master Haruka."

Haruka complied and felt Makoto's hand take it in his gentle but strong grip. Leaning back into his pillows, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of being washed. Haruka hated being bathed by his servants because their touch was flighty and nervous, as if they were going to break something made of delicate glass. Makoto's touch was self-assured and strong, but at the same time, tender and it felt pleasant. If it was Makoto who bathed him, Haruka mused, he supposed he wouldn't mind.

"Would you like me to help you bathe from now on?" Makoto's voice cut in to his thoughts with unnerving precision. Snapping open his eyes, he stared into Makoto's emerald green eyes suspiciously.

"How are you doing that?"

"How am I doing what?"

"How are you able to tell what I'm thinking?"

Makoto blinked. Then he smiled, a bit incredulously. "Isn't it obvious from the faces you are making?"

It was Haruka's turn to blink, bewildered. For so long his servants at secretly complained behind his back about his expressionless behavior, about how it was so difficult to understand him. Having someone who was able to read his immobile face threw him for a loop.

"No one has ever said that to me before," was all he said aloud. Makoto tilted his head, a little confused.

"Really?" Makoto mused for a moment before his smile, somehow not quite so irritating anymore, blossomed on his face. "I suppose there is a difference."

"A difference of what?"

"Between the other servants and I," Makoto slipped a hand behind Haruka's head and bent it forward to that he could wash the nape of his neck. "Because I am Master Haruka's personal slave, you are the one I am most attentive to. So I am able to read your expressions easily."

Haruka, for some reason, started to feel sulky again. "Because my parents put you up to it, right," he muttered.

"That is incorrect," Makoto said firmly, again surprising his master. "I am the one who requested to become your slave, Master Haruka."

"What?" this was the first time Haruka had heard of such a thing. "Why...?"

"..." Makoto remained silent for a pensive moment. "'Why' indeed," he murmured. His grip on the back of Haruka's head tightened momentarily. Haruka was very suddenly aware that Makoto was sitting far too close. Their faces were mere inches apart from each other.

Slowly, Makoto's hand moved from his hair to his cheek in a smooth motion. Unconsciously holding his breath, Haruka felt as if he was drowning in pools of forest green.

"Master Haruka," Makoto said in a tone much lower than his usual voice. "You are very important to me. I cannot tell you why or how but... please allow me to tell you this: Master Haruka is very special to me, more so than the Master and Mistress," he smiled and Haruka was struck by the realization that Makoto was, in fact, very attractive. "Master Haruka is my only Master, and I am proud to be your slave."

An odd tingly feeling followed by a burning hot sensation flared through Haruka's face and he watched as Makoto's serious expression morphed into one of astonishment.

"Your face is turning even redder," Makoto smiled, speaking in his normal light tone again. He took his hand away and reached for the towel. "Please get some rest. I'll go request food from the kitchens," he made to stand up but then Haruka grabbed on to his sleeve. "Master Haruka?"

_... Stay here_ , blue eyes implored. Makoto's smile, now beautiful instead of irritating, made Haruka's chest feel tight.

"Very well," Makoto smiled. "Then I'll stay here until you fall asleep, Master Haruka."

Makoto tugged his sleeve out of Haruka's grip, much to the young master's disappointment, but he seated himself in his earlier chair by his bedside. Blue eyes communicated what he was too proud – or scared – to ask.

"I'll be here when you wake up," Makoto comforted, reaching out to stroke his hair. "Please, go to sleep."

The oceanic eyes eventually slid shut to the rhythm of Makoto's soft breathing. So deeply asleep Haruka was, that he did not feel Makoto's head leave his forehead, nor did he here the soft click of the door as he left the room. However, as though as a breeze had crossed the room, he pulled his blankets tighter towards himself, as if desperate not to lose something close at hand.

**.**

**.**

**.**

When Haruka opened his eyes the next morning, both his fever and Makoto were gone.

He abruptly sat up and immediately regretted it as a bout of dizziness took hold. His stomach growled loudly – he hadn't eaten anything for a full day.

_I should have guessed that he wouldn't be here,_  Haruka sulked.  _All the servants are the same in the end... they only do things out of duty. Even making empty promises just to get me out of their hair_  –

His train of melodramatic thought was abruptly stopped as the door swung open and Makoto stood there with a tray laden with breakfast. "Oh no! You're awake?" Makoto said, a crease between his eyebrows. "I am terribly sorry, Master Haruka. I only went out to get your breakfast..."

"What are you sorry for?" Haruka asked grumpily, secretly relieved.

"For not being here when you woke up. Isn't that what you are angry about right now?"

Haruka visibly stiffened and turned his head away quickly. How  _was_  Makoto able to do that? His body posture was too easy to read, it seemed, because he heard Makoto chuckle.

"Like I have said before," Makoto said softly, "I only look at Master Haruka."

Again the warm feeling seemed to echo within him, and Haruka could feel his face once more turning scarlet.

"Ah, your face is turning red again! Is your fever not completely gone?"

"... S-Shut up. Idiot."


	2. The Scent of Perfume

Haruka was used to getting what he wanted.

Obviously it was because he was the son of an elite family with money to spare, but it was also because Haruka did not actually demand that much. The only frustrating things about him were his stoic attitude and his obsessive love for water.

But none of the maids or butlers could ever say that he ever made unreasonable demands. If he ever broke or spilled something, he himself would take the responsibility to clean it up. Though he was prideful, he knew when to show humility and apologize for his actions. And if he was ever angry, it wasn't because of selfish reasons, it was always about the other person's sake.

Like the time where the house steward's youngest son called Haruka 'Haruka-san' and used the honorfics by accident. Haruka had slapped the young boy, not even six years old, across the face and ordered him to never do it again. The young boy, lesson learned, stopped immediately. Now he would never make the same mistake and could avoid punishment from people who were less lenient.

But as that particular incident showed, Haruka was incredibly clumsy when it came to social interaction. That same young boy was now terrified of Haruka and ran away anytime he saw him. It never occurred to Haruka that hitting the child for disrespect was a bad thing; he himself had gotten hit plenty by his parents or his deceased grandmother as a child. Often it was because he couldn't stop his mouth from saying what was on his brain. Perhaps that was why he didn't talk much as he grew older.

Speaking soon became a chore because everyone misunderstood or considered him an odd. Surrounded by such people, Haruka didn't bother conveying his thoughts anymore. It seemed so pointless and superficial...

At least until Makoto came along.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Master Haruka, would you like any tea?"

"..."

"Ah, you would prefer water? Then I will go fetch a fresh pitcher for you."

Sitting on the wide window seat, Haruka watched as Makoto exited from the room, wondering just how he looked in his servant's green eyes. Perhaps his face showed more emotion than he thought? Glancing at the mirror, his reflection difficult to see because of the rain and dim lighting, stared back at him in total apathy. Haruka wondered if he were struck down right at that instant, would his reflection change expression at all?

Somewhat entertained by the idea, he fancied that at the other side of the mirror or window there was an entire world just like the one he was in. But perhaps everything there was in reverse, like the mirror reflections themselves. Or maybe they were upside down in which the ceiling was the floor, but since it was under their feet it would be a floor instead of a ceiling. Did they call it a ceiling because it was the opposite of floor? But how could a floor be a ceiling and a ceiling be a floor? Maybe –

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the door swing open behind him and he looked around, hoping that it was Makoto and his water. To his disappointment, however, it was just another one of the maids – he didn't know her name nor did he care – holding his desired pitcher of water. She set it down quietly on the nearby dresser and bowed nervously, fiddling with her serving yukata. "Do you require anything else, Young Master Haruka?"

"..."

She looked increasingly terrified. "Y-Young Master?"

Haruka mentally sighed. Well, at least he knew how his other servants viewed him. "No..."

"Oh! T-Then I shall take my leave," she bowed again quickly and had her hand on the doorknob before Haruka called out to her again.

"What happened to Makoto?"

"Ah," the servant girl managed to fix a glib smile on her face. "He was called away for another matter. He asked me to give this to you," she pointed at the pitcher. "He said to tell you that it would only take an hour or so to complete his task. Well then, please excuse me," and she hurried away without another word.

Haruka stared accusingly at the pitcher, as if it were its fault for not bringing Makoto back with it. "Well," he muttered, "it's not like I need anyone to pour the water for me," he grabbed a glass cup nearby and filled it with his favorite liquid. The refreshing taste of pure spring water soothed his taste buds and irritation and he sighed contently.

His bookshelf was made especially for him out of polished mahogany wood and filled to the brim with empty sketchbooks. It had been a gift from his previous art teacher, who had constantly swooned over Haruka's immense talent. Of course, both of his parents thought that his ability was useless and had nothing to do with the family business so art was still merely a hobby for him. A pleasurable hobby perhaps, but a hobby nonetheless.

He had filled up about one-third of the sketchbooks, leaving more than half of them empty. Selecting a new one, he opened up to a fresh page and picked up a pencil. He sat himself back down at the window seat and stared outside. The rain was beautiful and, in the sun, made everything glisten with light. But right now it was cold and dark and not exactly the ideal picture for drawing. Haruka was in the mood to draw something more cheerful anyway.

Closing his eyes lazily, he leaned back with his head against the wall and waited for inspiration to take him and whisk him on his merry way.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Two and a half sketches of Makoto later, Haruka was getting rather bored.

Tracing the jawline with light strokes, he wondered what sort of body his servant had underneath all those clothes. The only skin he had ever seen was of Makoto's face and hands. Otherwise, his servant had remained fully clothed. His artist senses tingled – he was sure that Makoto had a sculptured body, fit for art.

There was a series of quiet knocks on his door and Haruka's eyes lit up. He recognized that rhythm easily. "Come in."

Makoto stepped in, his green eyes clearly apologetic. "I'm sorry, Master Haruka. I was called away for other duties and couldn't come back sooner."

"It's fine," Haruka looked down at his sketchbook. For some reason, seeing Makoto in real life and imagining what he was like with his clothes off put a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"What are you drawing, Master Haruka? May I have a look?"

Haruka held out the sketchbook to him without complaint and watched Makoto's expression carefully as he examined the two and a half drawings. First Makoto's eyebrows creased slightly in confusion, then they went up in surprise. And then, to the young master's secret relief, those beautiful green eyes lit up, shining so brightly that they could put diamonds to shame.

"I am very flattered, Master Haruka," Makoto chuckled softly, his eyes still glowing with happiness. "I never imagined that Master Haruka could draw so well."

"It's just a hobby," Haruka grumbled, somewhat embarrassed. He reached out to take the sketchbook back and scrutinized the differences between his sketch and the real thing. Makoto leaned over to tap lightly on the unfinished sketch.

"Will you please show me this one when you are done?" he asked.

"... Sure," Haruka replied. Makoto drew away but then his master caught him on the arm.

"Master Haruka?"

"... Before, did one of the women call you out?"

"Hm? ... I suppose you could say that. Why do you ask, Master Haruka?"

"... No reason," Haruka let go of his sleeve and sat back. Makoto smiled curiously at him and turned around towards his bookshelf of sketchbooks.

"If possible, may I have a look at these as well?"

"Sure," Haruka said, his mind not processing anything Makoto said. Because at that moment, that small moment of where Makoto had come close to him to look at his drawings, Haruka had caught an unmistakable scent wafting off the taller male.

The scent of a lady's perfume...

**.**

**.**

**.**

"My friends are coming over to visit me this Saturday," Haruka said as Makoto scrubbed his back for him. Both teens were in the bathroom. Haruka, much do his disappointment, was the only one naked. Makoto still kept fully clothed even at the expense of getting them wet.

"Oh? Shall I prepare the guest room for them?" Makoto asked, pouring a bucket of hot water on Haruka's back to wash off the suds.

"Yeah, two of them. And possibly two more for their servants."

"Very well then," Makoto reached for a container of shampoo. "Just out of curiosity, who are your friends?"

"One of them is a childhood friend and the current owner of his family business. The other one is the son of the Prime Minister," the young master said offhandedly.

"Oh, I see. That is very admirable for someone of Master Haruka's age to run his own – " there was a loud clattering noise and Haruka turned in alarm. Fortunately, the shampoo was unharmed. Makoto's face was gaping with shock. "T-The son of the Prime Minister?  _The_  Prime Minister?" he squeaked. It was funny to hear such a high-pitched voice come out of such a huge body.

"Yeah..."

"... Master Haruka, I had no idea that you had such influential friends."

"He's just an annoying person who latched himself on to me," Haruka said dismissively. He heard Makoto laugh softly behind him and he frowned without turning around. "What?"

"I'm a little sad," Makoto's tone was light and teasing. The young master shuddered as he could feel the soft warm breath on his bare neck. "I thought I was the only one who could see Master Haruka's good points."

_Ah, he doesn't smell like perfume anymore..._

"You're annoying," Haruka dipped his hand into a bucket of water and swept upwards to splash his servant in the face. Makoto gave a shout of surprise before lapsing into coughing; some of the water had gotten in his nose.

"That wasn't nice, Master Haruka," Makoto choked out, pushing back his wet bangs. Haruka, watching the water drip down his face and down towards his neck, inadvertently swallowed. "Well, at any rate, I will prepare the best room and comfort for your friends. Just leave it to me."

"Of course," the blue-eyed teen scoffed as he picked himself up to step into the bathtub. "You wouldn't be worthy of being my servant otherwise."

" _Slave_ , Master Haruka. There is a difference."

"I hate that word. Stop using it."

"Yes, Master."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"HARU-CHAN!"

Haruka winced in surprise as a shorter overenthusiastic blonde flung himself at him. It was unpleasant to be interrupted from a daydream in your bed by getting pounced on by a shota. "Nagisa...!"

"Haru-chan! I've missed you so much! Why don't you come visit me? How come you haven't written me a letter? Haru-chan!"

"Nagisa, you're too noisy. Shut up for a bit," Haruka grumbled, rubbing at his temples. He waved away the escorting maid, who looked appalled by the situation. "Shouldn't the future Prime Minister have a little more dignity?"

"Just because my old man is the Prime Minister doesn't mean that I have to be," Hazuki Nagisa shrugged carelessly. He was only a few inches shorter than Haruka, with blonde hair, pink eyes, and a cheery attitude that seemed to brighten the room; or, in Haruka's case, irritated his eyes. "My sisters are better at that political mumbo-jumbo than me. One of them can be the Prime Minister."

"Girls can't be Prime Ministers."

"Who says? Girls can do anything that boys can. They just talk too much sometimes, that's all," Nagisa flopped down on to the red velvet couch of Haruka's room. "My sisters are strong, you know? They used to bully me all the time as kids too! It was really difficult for me!"

"You've already told me," Haruka sat down in the armchair next to the couch. "Is Rin coming soon?"

"Rin-chan should be here soon. He lives in the opposite direction than me from Haru-chan's house," Nagisa pouted. "Because of that, it's so tedious to visit him! It's a good thing that Haru-chan's house is right between ours!"

"Even so, don't use my house as a meeting point!" Haruka grumbled, feeling particularly aggravated. It was so obvious that even Nagisa paused mid-rant and peered at his friend's face.

"Haru-chan, are you alright? Did I come at a bad time? If that's the case, then I can just go meet up with Rin-chan and go back to his house..."

Immediately Haruka felt guilty. "No, it's okay. You can stay," he said quickly. "It's just..."

Nagisa frowned as Haruka's voice drifted off. "Haru-chan! I'm not a mind-reader, as awesome as that would be! You need to clearly say what you're thinking!" he

"... My manservant was called away for some kind of 'duty'," Haruka had to resist the temptation to use air quotes. "He left this morning and hasn't come back yet."

"Oh! Haru-chan, have you gotten a new servant? A personal one? What's his name?"

"Makoto."

"... Makoto?"

"Just Makoto. He doesn't have a last name."

"Oh. Oh! I see..." Nagisa mused into thoughtful silence. "He must be a great guy, huh?"

Haruka blinked. "Huh? Why do you say that?"

"Because if Haru-chan misses him so much already, then he must have been nice to have around!" the blonde gave him a cheeky grin. "When he comes back, make sure you introduce him to me, okay?"

"... Okay," Haruka gave him a rare tiny smile.

"Ah, did he ever tell you how to spell his name?"

"... Why would he know? Makoto shouldn't know how to read or write."

"Ah, that's true isn't it... most servants or lower-working class people don't know how to read or write, do they?"

"Most of the servants here don't."

"Hmm... then, when I'm Prime Minister, I'll open up a free-of-charge school that anybody can go to! Wouldn't it be good if everyone could have an education?"

"Didn't you say that you would let one of your sisters be the Prime Minister?"

"Don't nitpick over details, Haru-chan!"

Haruka sighed. Nagisa spoke of giving everyone an education while his own education was slightly questionable judging from his grades... not that Haruka could really talk.

Soon they were engaged in a lively discussion – well, lively as in Nagisa was spouting ideas and Haruka was quietly listening – of how to revamp the education system when a young man with matching wine red eyes and hair burst into the room.

"Sorry for being late," Matsuoka Rin apologized, his face looking harried. "My new servant got a little too curious with exploring your house, Haru," he pushed Nagisa's legs aside, still sprawled out on the couch, and plopped down next to him. Nagisa giggled as he draped his legs in Rin's lap. Rin gave him an affectionate slap on the back. "It's been a while, the two of you. How have you been?"

"Listen to this, Rin-chan! Haru-chan and I were discussing what it would be like if we could give the uneducated an education!"

"... But how would they be uneducated if they're educated? What would we call that?"

"Exactly!"

"What?!"

Haruka gave a quiet snort of disbelief. Sinking himself further down into the armchair he shut his eyes and let the bickering voices of his two friends wash over him.

He and Rin had known each other as children, considering that their families were in the same business and had reached a peaceful alliance between them. The only difference was that Rin's father had died when he was very young, making him the sole inheritor of the business. Determined at such a young age, Rin succeeded his father's work at twelve-years-old, rising to become a corporate star in the commerce industry. There had been many rough patches in his youth, as well as rocky areas in his friendship with Haruka, but Nagisa had stepped in like a blessed bridge, connecting them when they fell apart.

Nagisa may have been the son of the Prime Minister of all of Japan, but in reality he was just a giggly kid with a mischievous mind and an attitude permanently turned to immaturity. However, that didn't mean that the blonde didn't know how to be serious. Sympathetic to the nobles and commoners alike, Nagisa treated them all fairly with equal compassion. He loved the people of Japan, and its conspicuousness caused many to hope that he would be the next successor for ruling the country.

Nagisa and Haruka had been introduced through Rin, who had offered – without Haruka's knowledge – to let Nagisa be a guest in the Nanase household. It was the first time Haruka had ever seen someone with natural blonde hair. There were rumors that Nagisa was the son of a foreigner woman whom his father had an affair with... then again, considering that his would-be adoptive mother had died giving birth, the gossip was considered unimportant and untrue.

"Like I was saying, Rin-chan – "

"Will you listen to me, dammit?!"

There was a sharp knock on the door, sounding almost frantic. Haruka's heart leapt into his throat as his blue eyes instantly snapped open. "Enter!"

Makoto rushed in, his hair frazzled and his tie not quite put on straight. "I am so, so sorry, Master Haruka! My appointment carried on more than I thought it would. Please give me a moment to straighten myself...!" he began adjusting his tie when he realized that he and his master weren't alone. "Oh, are you Master's friends? My name is Makoto. I am Master Haruka's personal sla – servant. It is a pleasure to meet you," he bowed respectfully. Nagisa giggled at his mussed hair.

"Calm down, Makoto," Haruka reached out to smooth his hair for him, but when he pulled up close to him his nose couldn't help but wrinkle.

_Again, the scent of perfume... but it's a different scent this time._

He opened his mouth to order Makoto to tell him exactly where he had been, only to realize that his servant's green eyes were not looking at him at all. Instead they were staring straight at his redhead friend, who had the exact same stunned expression on his face.

"R-Rin?"

"Makoto?"

**Author's Note:**

> In this world, honorfics are only allowed to be used by those of noble standing, like Haruka and his parents. Servants and slaves are strictly banned from such usage. Nobles are allowed to use honorfics towards servants and slaves, but it isn't often used. The honorfics are often used between nobles as a sign of respect or as a sign of closeness. Calling the first name flat out without honorfics is also allowed, though only between particularly close friends or relatives.
> 
> Slaves are usually meant to wear a single distinguishing triangle shaped earring on the right to tell them apart from other servants. The material may vary depending on both the context of their position and the standing of their masters. Business-owning officials like the Nanase family would have their slaves wear silver earrings. Top of the ladder (prime ministers) could have gold. Rare jewel earrings often go to female slaves who are used as sexual pleasure or at most acknowledged as a concubine. Below the Nanase family's standing, other slave owners may use cheaper materials like copper.


End file.
